


Midwinter Luck

by iuvui



Category: The Immortals - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - no RotG, F/M, Gen, Midwinter, Was meant to be a one-shot so no planned updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iuvui/pseuds/iuvui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midwinter! Pre-ROTG. Daine wishes Numair Midwinter luck. Second chapter with a snippet of the morning after in Numair's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She stumbled trying to hold him up. Now he was singing a slurred rendition of some ballad or another.

Well, at least this doesn't usually happen, she thought to herself as he nearly tripped on the stairs leading up to his room.

She sighed. They'd become quite a bit more protective about each other since Carthak. They'd decided it would be best to give each other a break tonight for the Midwinter festivities, but that definitely didn't work out as planned. She'd been busy twirling around in some clerk's arms when she saw him drunk beyond belief surrounded by a flock of adoring noblewomen. She'd never seen him drunk before, and those women had looked vicious. All fake smiles and giggles. She had to save him before he did something stupid. It's not that she was jealous or anything! Of course not… They'd been friends for years now, nothing could change that. She sighed again.

He'd looked so good, all tall and handsome. Traveling across Tortall with him, she often forgot how good he looked cleaned up. Tonight, with his black mage robes and that amber drop and his hair all tamed by a "plethora" of potions… She smirked. Her vocabulary was improving.

But all in all, he'd looked irresistible that night. Too bad she wasn't curvy or blond or mature or noble or anything else he liked… They'd finally reached his door.

"Come on," she asked, trying to keep him up. "Where are your keys?"

He looked down at her, confused. Thank the Goddess he'd stopped singing.

"Keys, Numair. Magical sticks that open doors!"

He just kept staring at her. Looking at her, almost like she was one of those court ladies…? No. Mouse manure. He'd never look at her that way.

"Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith… Beautiful… -let," he mumbled still staring at her, eyes wide with wonder.

"Numair!"

He snapped out of it, now more confused than ever. It was adorable. He looked around like he was trying to figure out where he was.

"Oh, rooms!"

"Yes, Numair. Rooms! Now, key!" This was worse than dealing with Aly and Alan… Definitely, not how she wanted to be talking to her dashing teacher.

"Oh…" he mumbled, searching his pockets. He held it up, a proud smile on his face.

She let them in and nearly dragged him to his bedchambers. She dumped him unceremoniously on his bed and then proceeded to take off his boots.

He was looking at her again.

She met his gaze. He looked so awed. Wonder who he thought she was…

The watch was called from outside his window, snapping her out of… whatever that was. It was late.

"Well, good night," she said, awkwardly turning to leave.

She looked back at the door to his bedchambers. His eyes were now heavy with sleep, but he was still looking at her. He's drunk enough to not remember anything. If she was to have a chance, this was it.

She hesitantly walked back to his bed and bent over him, placing a kiss on his lips.

"Midwinter luck, Numair."


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Numair's POV

His eyes flew open. What had happened? His head was killing him and the bright sunlight wasn't helping. He lay in bed, trying to remember how he had gotten there.

The bells tolled, adding to his pounding headache. Groaning, he pushed himself out of bed. Alanna would have a fix.

Alanna's a saint; her cures could bring the dead back to life, he decided. Headache magically cured, he made his way to the dining hall to scrounge up some food.

It's odd that he had had a lot to drink the night before. He knows his limits and has learned that alcohol makes him… different. There must be some reason why he had let himself go last night.

"Morning, 'Mair," called that sweet voice. Oh. It all came back to him. His magelet, his dear little magelet. She had looked absolutely stunning. Decked out in blue velvet, her smoky locks cascading down her back, he could't tear his eyes away. Neither could many other men, nay boys, he had noticed. She had certainly garnered a lot of attention last night. Aha! That's why he had started drinking! All those boys dancing with her, making her laugh. It had been too much.

"Numair?"

He snapped back to the present. Right, she was here, talking to him. Him, not them.

"Numair!"

"Oh, sorry! Just thinking… Good morning, magelet."

He looked down at her. She was till lovely, covered in mud and straw and whatnot. But something was off; she seemed a bit sad. She was trying but he could tell.

"Are you alright, magelet?"

Her façade fell for a mere second. It wasn't just sadness, she looked lonely too. The cheery smile returned in a flash.

"Of course, master mage! Never better."

Liar.

She saw the doubtful look in his face.

"I'm fine. Are you going to eat?"

"Yes, I was just heading over there right now. You?"

"Nah, I've been done for hours now, sleepy! One of the page's horses need healing so I'm heading over there right now. See you later for lessons?"

"Of course, magelet."

Lessons. What a fake. He hadn't taught her anything worthwhile for quite some time now. He watched her walk away. Why couldn't she just tell him what was wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the same work put up on Ff.net, just fyi! As mentioned in the tags, was meant to be a one-shot so no planned updates. It will be continued at some point!


End file.
